A/N: Well! It's been awhile, hasn't it? Lolz. I think I've left this story for almost half a year – shame on me! But my New Year's Resolution is to complete all the stories I have still 'in progress', starting with 'Touché'. :) Hopefully, you have not yet forgotten about this story, neh?

As I'm in the middle of University and scholarship applications, I will not have time to reply to individual comments this time. Thank you everyone, for such support over this story – I hope you had as much fun reading it as I did writing it. Except for the little hiatus at the end, hm? :P

Now, without further ado, a fun little chapter to end Or rather, BEGIN Alanna's sojourn at court. :)

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And we both stumble backwards…

My foot – that stupid foot of mine – catches on his, and together, we crash into a whirling couple behind us. My momentum carries me forwards, straight into Jonathan's arms…

His arm keeps a tenacious grip on my waist, pulling me down with him…

On TOP of him…

And my lips – they sway (Yes, THEY sway – I swear, they have a mind of their own…) to land right smack atop his.

I can feel my eyes widen, and can see the surprise reflecting in those sapphire ones. I'm blushing – a VERY distinct crimson. I know I am. I can feel the heat coming off my face. Or perhaps, it's coming from those sizzling lips…

As we fall, a totally new sensation overwhelms me, and I clutch tightly onto his shirt.

Those lips should be illegal.

Jonathan breaks off the – well, for lack of a better word – kiss (although I would say 'kisses' are usually voluntary – and let me tell you, this was NOT voluntary), as we skid to a stop with the poor couple as our safety net. He looks at me. I, on the other hand, just look at his sensuous lips – but a single breath away. Hesitatingly, I bend my head forward. My target? Those burning lips, of course…

And then – yes, there is a THEN. The Goddess loves to see her subjects suffer. All of this was only a small part of her cruel game. Heavens forbid, there is more.

The distinguished couple we had crashed into moves aside, leaving both of us unbalanced. We continue our path of destruction, trying desperately to find a foothold.

Finally, we crash…

Right into someone smoking a cigar.

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Et le deluge.

I can't believe him. I can't believe what happened.

WHY would someone be smoking a cigar INSIDE the ballroom?! Don't they know how dangerous that is? Don't they?!

I stare up at the row of royalty staring back at me – and only one person's eyes are comforting. Silently, he reassures me. It will be all right. It will be all right.

NO, it is most certainly NOT all right.

I recall what happened this time an hour ago. When we stumbled, crashing into the cigar man, he promptly dropped it in surprise – right on the suit of your truly's dance partner. His tunic burst into flame, followed quickly by his shirt.

I. INDIRECTLY. Set. The. Crown. Prince. On. Fire.

Good thing he learned the elementary fire safety as a page. Drop, and roll. Otherwise, it won't be R.I.P Alanna – it would have been R.I.P. Jonathan AND Alanna.

Silence fills the hall as I stare at him. After a change in clothes, he's got nothing to show for his pains but a slight singe of his hair. A flush stains his cheeks in his anger. I watch as he argues with his parents.

He's arguing for ME. Even after I had almost KILLED him, he's still on my side.

(Of course that's not to say I can't do my own arguing – but what am I supposed to say? 'You must forgive my clumsiness, your Majesties. I really didn't mean to set your son on fire.' Pfff… that just sounds plain stupid.)

The flush on his cheeks, the flash in his eyes – there, because he's defending ME. He believe me – trusts me.

I could cry.

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Standing on the balcony, I watch as the members of Royalty filter down the corridor. All I could think about was the verdict, and how HE practically saved my life.

Phew. That was close. Too close.

Ungodly close.

Out of the corner of my eye, I can see him coming towards me – getting closer… and closer…

"Alanna." I can feel him right behind me. After that kiss – or rather, that MISTAKE – my legs seems to have turned to mush around him. Slowly, I pivot on my feet, so I was facing him. More accurately, I was looking at his chest.

"Jonathan – I – "

His widening grin and the narrow distance between us were not making this easier for me. "Err. Thank you - Jon. For – for, erm… you know…"

He closes the distance entirely between us. I can feel the heat emanating from his body. "Yes?"

Oh for Goddess… this was NOT good… NOT healthy…

"For… well, getting me out of that – err, tight spot a few moments."

Tight spot? I almost lost my LIFE that day.

By now he's close. So very tangible and here.

"It was nothing. I kept my word, when I told you I wouldn't let anything happen to you. Didn't you believe me?"

Just his voice sent tingles down my spine. His gaze is intent, willing my answer to be a 'yes'. I wonder what would happen if we actually touched. Maybe I would ignite right here on the spot.

Nope. I definitely would ignite on the spot.

"…Yes…no…" I have absolutely no idea what I am saying anymore. He had taken my upper arm, and traced the entire contour before finally reaching my hands. His other arm slips around my waist. I feel my knees go weak… very very VERY weak.

His head bends nearer…

Whoa, hoooold up! This is getting too intense for me. Plus, it positively irks me when he simply assumes things for me—sheesh, what a typically male thing to do. Just because he's the Prince…

… and all right, he saved my life mere minutes ago…

Still, nothing gives him the right to simply touch a female like he is now.

I break away from his possessive hold around my waist. "If you touch me like that again, I will personally break EVERY bone in your body. Holding hands is the line…"

Then, feeling weirdly generous, I add, "Maybe an occasional kiss goodnight...on the cheeks only. That's the limit, and don't cross it, Prince."

"I don't play by the rules, Lady Alanna." His seductively deep voice causes my heart and stomach to do matching somersaults. "Especially not your rules."

Jonathan tips up my chin with two of his fingers and places a slow, languid kiss on my lips. Yes, those very lips of his that are fast becoming irresistible, if they aren't already. His embrace is gentle, letting me know I can pull away at anytime because he knows that I won't. His kisses don't demand, don't rush, don't ask. They consume, flying me recklessly up to cloud nine and landing me safely in his arms—again.

Again, he pulls away, and I grin stupidly at him. He returns my grin with a winning smile, pulling me back towards him.

"Touché".